Gray
by ginger17
Summary: Erin Sanders, a sixteen year old girl living in Queens has already lived a difficult life. She has been taking care of her drunk father for as long as she can remember. It doesn't help that Erin's brother is across the country at college. After a massive hurricane on the east coast floods the city and communication is lost to the rest of the country, Erin must find her brother.


Gray. Everything is gray. Everyone who walks by, the sky, the constant stream of water in the road; all gray. A once colorful town is now merely a shadow of its former self.

I sit on the front steps of my apartment building-or what was my apartment building, seeing as not much is left. I watch as a waist-deep river rapidly flows down the street that I had just a week ago walked down on my way to school. Everything from toothbrushes to televisions litters the water, smashing into the now flooded vehicles that are cluttered across the constant stream like stepping stones.

I take a deep breath and am rewarded with a staggering cough. A thick layer of ash has settled on every surface of Queens over the last day and a half. The fires throughout this half of Queens had been burning throughout the night. The fire department had finally showed up at my house just as it had begun to blaze. The fire had not been going for long; only the roof and parts of the second floor were burnt.

I have been planted here on this single step for what seems like years, just waiting. Waiting for life to return to how it was last week, last month, last year. Waiting for him. It seems in a way that I have always been waiting for him; ever since I was just eight years old. After my mother had died, he had never been quite the same. My older brother, Josh, and I had been taking care of my father, George, together up until three years ago when Josh had gone off to school in Oregon. We had agreed that when he graduated from college that he would bring me out to Oregon with him and I would with him there until I could live on my own.

Glancing at my watch, I realize that it is one of the last possessions of mine that had not been ruined by the water or fire. I have so little left in this world; I have no idea if Josh is safe, haven't the slightest idea where George had gone off to. It's nearly noon, I decide to go back into the house that I share with George. I half run, half walk around the entire first floor; it seems as though the only damage is of course the water which has by now damaged the floors, walls, and furniture.

I start up the stairs in an attempt to inspect the damage and hopefully save a few items from the mess. Around the corner, the walls and floors were a little burnt but would hopefully hold up; pretty much just the ceiling was damaged. However, pieces of damp, black plywood crisscross each other throughout the narrow hallway; the ceiling had collapsed in a few spots. As I attempt to make my way through the hall, I am suddenly reminded of the time when I was eight years old; right after my mother had died. George had just started drinking and Josh hadn't wanted me to be around our father. Josh had taken me to the playground behind the elementary school every day after school. I can still remember climbing throughout the jungle dream trying to make my way to the slide. The maze of obstacles never seemed to end, nor does it now.

I must move forward and try not to dwindle in the past. If I'm going to leave this ghost town to find my brother, I will need supplies.

I finally make it to my bedroom. I can't help but notice the lovely skylight that had been added to my ceiling. The walls which were once orange have been turned a sickly gray color. I manage to scavenge an old backpack from my closet and quickly stuff a few pairs of clothes into a large pocket before I make my way across the hallway to George's room.

It seems that the right side of the house had not been affected by the fire; just my luck. I raid his closet, looking for the sleeping bags we had used every summer until I was eight. Now they just sit on the top shelf of this closet, gathering dust. I pull one off the shelf and grab a couple flashlights and batteries. Kneeling down next to the bed I retrieve a wooden box. I take the key from the bedside table to unlock it. Carefully, I pull out the gun and dump the remaining items onto the unmade bed. I load the gun and jam the other bullets into the side pocket of the backpack. I place the gun in the waistband of my pants. I never knew why people in movies had always put it there but it seemed like a good enough place for it. I didn't know if I would need a gun or in what situation I would use it in but I figured it would be better to be on the safe side.

I start making my way back through the hall after taking money from George's room. As I place my foot at the top of the stairs, the charred wood caves in and my leg falls through. I can't help but let out a piercing scream of agony. The only thing I can pay attention to is the jarring pain in my left thigh. I attempt to pull myself up but the pain is too much; I remain stuck here falling in and out of consciousness until long after the sun has set.

I have a clear view to the front door; I can see that it remains open at the bottom of the stairs. I try to focus my thoughts on the constant trickling of water in the street in an attempt to remain conscious. However, my attempts are unsuccessful.

The next time I wake, I watch as a dark shadow enters through the front door. I can hear someone sloshing through the water. I instinctively lean forward in order to get a better view. I'm rewarded with an overwhelming sting in my thigh. Automatically, I let out a small yelp before passing out again.

When I wake, I realize I am in a small, unfamiliar gray room, a storage room, maybe. Shelves of boxes litter the room. I am laying on a cot in a corner of this space, trying to remember anything, everything. I take a deep breath of thick, humid air and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I stand up quickly and just as fast, I fall down. Suddenly, I can recall the events that took place prior to unconsciousness. I quickly scan my legs for damage and easily find a large, clean bandage covering the center of my left thigh. The person in my house must have heard my scream. He must have somehow pulled me out from the floor without my noticing. I couldn't help but wonder where I was or how I had gotten here. The streets have all been excessively flooded; I can't imagine how I could have left.

Suddenly I begin to feel claustrophobic. I need to leave this secluded room. Unfortunately, my leg will prevent me from making a quick getaway. Shaking, I attempt to stand once again. I hobble over to the gray metal door and begin to twist the doorknob. The door opens right as I touch the knob.


End file.
